


Favorite

by danceintheashes



Series: The Wolf and His kitten [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, BDSM, Boot Worship, Caring D/s, Crying During Sex, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione is partial to apex predators, Humiliation, Leather Kink, Master/Slave, Not Britpicked, Orgasm Control, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Remus Lupin, Praise Kink, Protective Remus Lupin, Public Humiliation, Remus is a big bad wolf, Rope Bondage, Rope Suspension, Service Submission, Sex Club, Songfic, bdsm club, breath play, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28414542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceintheashes/pseuds/danceintheashes
Summary: When Remus insists on a visit to a public dungeon, Hermione learns a thing or two about her place in his life. And that she only hates attention until she doesn’t.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin
Series: The Wolf and His kitten [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081820
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	Favorite

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics are from Favorite by Nicki Minaj ft. Jeremih. Theme is tender yet depraved, my favorite mood for these two. Will make more sense if you've read Hold You Down first.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

_Don't want no drama_   
_I just wanna be your diamond, babe_   
_Guaranteed to be a problem_   
_Every time I get around you, babe_   
_I just want you to need me_   
_You might really want to try me, babe_   
_All I know, I want a rider_   
_All I know, I want a rider, babe_   
_You know that you need a rider_   
_You know that you need a rider, babe_

"You're going to make this the longest day ever, aren't you?"

Hermione dropped her head onto the table with a frustrated whimper as Remus raised his from between her thighs. He pressed a kiss to her hipbone, then trailed his mouth up her abdomen, along the tattoo of a gray wolf that curved over her ribs. A giggle escaped her as his damp beard tickled her skin and he nuzzled her breasts.

"I'm only trying to help. You're less anxious around people with the proper level of distraction, kitten," he murmured, his chuckle a soft hum against her nipple as he took it into his mouth.

Tangling her hands in his loose, sandy hair, she dragged him into a kiss, moaning when she tasted herself on him. When he broke the kiss a few moments later, she arched her back, seeking out more contact. He slid an arm around her waist and held her to him, pulling her up to sit on the edge of the dining table and standing between her legs.

He'd had fun fucking her everywhere except their bedroom, after a summer of keeping things behind closed doors for Teddy's visit. She liked the freedom, but it was hard for both of them when Teddy headed back to Gin and Dora's to get ready for his second year at Hogwarts.

"'Help' and 'torment' are too close together in your twisted mental dictionary, you sadist." She rubbed her cheek to his palm as he took her face in his hands. She'd once thought the label didn't apply because he didn't enjoy beating her past the point of pleasure or catharsis, but he still loved making her suffer, and his fondness for weaponizing her arousal and shame could be both cruel and delicious.

"Would you like to lodge a complaint, Min?" He laughed when she shook her head, kissing her forehead. "I thought not. Go check your lab and get dressed, before I change my mind and decide I want to come to your aid again."

When he lifted her from the table and set her on her feet, she ducked under his arm and made haste down the hallway of the huge beach house.

He'd remodeled the room that had once been hers into a potions lab, and she ensured everything was as she left it. The one cauldron on held a potion she was innovating for liver damage, but it needed to sit for 36 hours; thankfully, none of the ingredients were volatile. She hoped it would come in handy at the hospital.

She'd begun working a couple of days a week at St. Anthony's in Paris in June, focusing on research with the occasional practical rotation. It made her happy to put her Healing and Potions skills to use helping instead of harming people.

As she entered the master bedroom they now shared next door, it surprised her to see Remus had laid out clothes for her. He was comfortable exerting his authority in most areas of her life, but he rarely gave an opinion on what she wore, except to say that she was beautiful in whatever she chose and even more beautiful in nothing at all. Slipping into the lacy black leggings and tank top, she opened the closet to grab her red shrug and noticed her favorite corset was missing.

With a flicker of unease, she unzipped his big travel bag. It lay on top.

"Remus, why do I need my corset for a rope workshop?" she asked when he wandered into the adjoining bath to wash his face, using a drying charm on his beard and working a bit of oil into it.

"It's for after." He sat on the bed and pulled her to straddle his lap. She didn't realize she'd stiffened until he sunk his hand into her dark curls and her shoulders dropped two inches. "Ryan's hosting a formal dinner, and I intend to stay for the party tonight."

When she bit her lip, he gave her a soft, chaste kiss, resting his forehead against hers. He'd taken her to Nox, the wizarding BDSM club Ryan owned, twice since she took his permanent collar in March. But only to attend a workshop, and this would be the first one they'd lead. Agreeing to serve as his bottom and to teach a portion of it had been a stretch; serving at dinner or playing in public was a flying leap. He already knew that, though - it was why he'd stepped back from his own semi-regular visits.

"I can see your thoughts running away from you." He stroked her hair. "You remember the protocols Cesare uses, yes? You'll just be handling drinks, for Ryan and for me."

"I do, but it's not about the protocol, sir." Though her previous forays in the lifestyle had mostly been private, her mentor had insisted on her learning in a more formal setting at his small house parties years ago.

"Oh, I know. You like that part, you little service slut," he grinned. "You won't be alone; you'll have the two of us, and Ces is coming with Jacob. Besides, after dinner I plan to make you forget about everyone else." She blushed and tucked her face against his neck. "I know how you feel about attention, sweet girl, but I also know how you feel about pleasing me. And it pleases me to show off my lovely slave."

She nodded and he kissed her temple, tightening his arms around her. "Good girl. I know you'll make me proud today. You've never done any less."

_Yo, I just wanna be your rider_   
_You should pull up in that Spyder_   
_You should let me hit the mic_   
_And I ain't talking 'bout the fighter_   
_Get it lit without a lighter_   
_Let's pull an all-nighter_   
_Tell me, tell me what you need, got the weed_   
_I'm a bad lil bitch and they'll never indict her_

The afternoon went well, for the most part. She was lucky Remus enjoyed indulging her kink for learning almost as much as he liked tying her; she'd picked up much more in the months they'd been together, and she found it fun to share the knowledge with others.

Ryan hung around to observe. Rope was his thing, or one of them, at least - he'd been the one to get her started in it, though she hadn't bottomed for him in some time. She figured Cesare would be in later, since he didn't hold with 'spending hours playing Boy Scout when a pair of cuffs or an Incarcerous could handle the job quicker', as he liked to put it.

Remus acquainted her with everyone. He knew all five of the pairs they'd be teaching, three couples and two who'd come as play partners. One of the women in the latter group was a more solicitous towards him than the rest. He introduced her as Eva, bottoming for Lady Mary. She assumed they'd dated - she wasn't the first of his exes Hermione had met there, but the other had been friendly enough.

This one spent most of her safety talk glaring at her. She was pretty, if cold - blonde and petite, older than Hermione but younger than him.

It was an advanced workshop and Ryan had vetted all the couples' level of skill, so it started out a review. She went over risks of the particular tie they'd be doing, as well as for self-suspension, then discussed managing pain. About half the participants wanted to learn how to self-tie it, so Remus asked her to demonstrate that first.

"It goes without saying that the futomomo is a painful tie to suspend from," she explained to a few nods as she demonstrated a modified version that helped mitigate the discomfort, her nimble hands working to bind her ankle to her upper thigh and moving downward. "I wouldn't recommend it for self-suspension unless you're a masochist or just a serious nerd, but letting the chest harness take some of the weight helps. Bottoming for a skilled rigger helps much more, once the endorphins and oxytocin start flowing. And of course you can still tie the leg for the aesthetic and suspend from a hip harness instead."

She shot Remus a soft smile, and his eyes crinkled at the corners when he returned it, watching her as he leaned back against a table. The first time he'd tied her he used a similar technique, that night on the beach under the stars, but he was careful not to let her leg take most of the stress then. And he excelled at setting her mind on things other than the discomfort.

Hooking carabiners to the top of the wooden frame, she narrated her actions as she attached uplines from the diamond chest harness she'd tied earlier, then took the uplines she'd tethered to the futo and used them to hoist herself until she was suspended lying face-up, to the sound of scattered clapping. She managed it with only a few little whimpers, and he unfolded his arms and came over to her, hugging her close.

"Excellent work," he murmured, dragging his knuckles along her cheek in a tender gesture, then turning his attention to the class. "Unfortunately for Min, she's not much of a masochist."

Ryan snickered, the bastard.

"No, just a rope slut," she said with a grin as Remus's chuckle rumbled through his chest.

He gazed down at her with his best 'you're fucked' smile, the one that always made her fearful and wet in equal measure. "Do you love me?"

"With all my heart, master."

"I'm glad." He pressed his lips to her forehead before working at the knots she'd used to tether the chest harness to the frame. "I want you to remind yourself of that in about thirty seconds for me."

She closed her eyes and bit back a curse as he released the rope and she fell upside down, her bound leg taking her weight. As soon as she'd settled into the inversion, she bent her unbound leg above her as well, letting Remus distract her with his touch and the sensation of floating as he spun her.

"You're so pretty when you hurt, little one. Tell me, have you reconsidered your stance?" His tone was conversational, sparking amusement from their audience as his hand walked up the inside of her thigh.

She exhaled a quiet moan. "Not yet, sir."

"Good. I'd better give you this, then, before I push my luck too far." He placed the rope in her hand and stood close by as she pulled herself up, horizontal once more.

She detailed the process of coming down, her voice more shaky this time, then he took her into his lap and settled her head on his shoulder while he untied her leg.

Once she could walk, he brushed his lips against hers and she got up to stretch, wandering around the room to answer questions and offer feedback as people tried it out. They were using one corner of Nox's main play area, the lights turned up and the other furniture pushed out of the way to make space for the suspension frames.

Remus stood helping a pair on the other side of the area when Hermione caught snatches of Mary and Eva's conversation in Dutch - little about the tie, but quite a bit about the age difference between the two of them and about her appearance.

She might have been self-conscious about her looks, but not enough that playground insults got to her. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she watched Eva tie the futo, then used the opportunity of giving feedback on the rope tension to show that she could understand every word. It'd been five years since her assignment in Ghent, but her Dutch wasn't that rusty.

Eva didn't look abashed at being overheard at all; she ignored Hermione as Mary made a sharp comment about bottoms being better seen and not heard.

Though she hadn't spent much time in the broader community beyond Cesare and Ryan's little circle, she knew that was a common, if inane, viewpoint. Remus's encouragement of her active participation had spoiled her. He didn't expect her to show deference to others unless she wished to, either, but she bit her tongue to avoid conflict.

As her part of the workshop wrapped up, she let his touch soothe her, grateful she didn't need to be so focused anymore. His closeness anchored her as he bound her arms behind her back and hoisted her face-down this time before sending her to hang again in an inversion.

He spoke about semenawa, the art of using rope to create a sense of endurance and suffering, while she embodied it. Since it was a class and not a scene, she didn't slip entirely under the waves of sensation, but her tension about Eva melted away as he ran his hands over her body, the rich timbre of his voice washing over her.

Once he'd brought her down and held her as he untied her leg and the harness, she helped him again with observing. She enjoyed doing it with him, but found herself grateful for the break once the questions ended and they'd wrapped things up.

"Good job, princess," Ryan said, ruffling her hair as she leaned into him with a whisper of thanks and a side hug. He spoke with Remus while she packed up their materials and one of his staff rearranged the furniture with a few quick spells.

She was just sliding her engagement ring from the chain she'd worn it on during class when Remus found her. He plucked it from her palm and put it back on her finger, and she smiled softly at the memory of the joy she'd felt the first time he did that. She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, tucking the necklace into the side of his bag.

"You did well, little one," he said as he drew her into his powerful embrace, running his hands down her back. "How was it?"

"Thank you, sir. Not as scary as I expected," she murmured, nuzzling her cheek to his chest. "I could be persuaded to do it again."

"I'm glad. At dinner, you'll serve Ryan first, since he's hosting. Do you have questions about anything?"

At the shake of her head, he sent her to dress. She spotted Jacob, Cesare's slave, in the shared changing area, and tackled him in a hug.

They talked Healing as he helped her tighten the stays of the underbust corset, leather-encased boning stretching around her waist, sewn with a lace halter that covered her small breasts. He worked at St. Anthony's sister hospital in Rome, but in a much more hands-on role.

Remus had packed matching black silk suspenders and lace stockings, along with a pair of strappy heels and cage-back panties. She blushed when she realized he hadn't packed anything else; the vulnerability of being on display as his property discomfited her, but she was surprised to also find it thrilled her.

_Get locked, I'ma write ya_   
_You on the road, I'ma Skype ya_   
_I don't wanna hype ya_   
_But you a lucky ***** if my mean ass like ya_

Dinner was simple enough; she served Ryan wine and Remus water, occasionally getting up to refill and offering from her knees. She knelt between them on a cushion, and he allowed her to rest her head against his thigh as he petted her, feeding her by hand. She'd put her hair up in an elaborate braided crown, so he avoided disturbing it, but his gentle touch against her neck and the bare expanse of her shoulder blades still comforted her.

Though it was much different from the way they interacted at home, a part of her enjoyed the more constant and obvious awareness of his authority and her role, and he cut a handsome figure in the suit he'd changed into. She slipped into a relaxed state, closing her eyes and leaving the flow of the activity around them aside to focus on him.

When the dessert course came, she went to prepare tea for Ryan, and a few of the other slaves and submissives were also in the kitchen when Eva spoke.

"He'll replace you soon enough. A whore like you might be good for a fun lay, but you're not what he needs."

Hermione didn't shield, but she ran through a set of Occlumency exercises to distract herself from retaliating as she finished adding sugar. When she turned to head back to the dining room, the woman grabbed her arm and the cup slipped; she narrowly avoided scalding herself.

"Take your hand off me," she said in a low voice as she put on her best 'don't fuck with me' glance. Ten years of dealing with real evil on top of a childhood spent fighting Voldemort had perfected the look. Eva stepped back, and with a rush of relief Hermione re-made the tea, ignoring Jacob's concerned hand as she left to serve it.

She'd just risen to go make Remus's when she felt someone grab her arm again. She tensed and turned around as Mary said, "Someone needs to teach you a lesson."

Thank God Ryan had eyes in the back of his head, because he inserted himself between them before Hermione's restraint dissipated enough to break a few bones. Remus stood only seconds behind him.

Ryan kept his icy gaze on Mary. “Min, please let Master Cesare know I would like to borrow Jacob, and the both of you go to the patio."

She felt Remus's eyes on her as she collected Jacob. The three dominants made their way out a few moments later, Remus standing next to her with a hand at the small of her back.

Grateful for his touch, she resisted shielding again - he didn't like her to - but she schooled the emotion from her face with the ease of years of practice.

"Jacob, Lady Mary's accused Min of threatening Eva. Could you tell us what happened in the kitchen?"

It was a bit like being called into the Headmaster's office, not that Hermione had much experience with that. Ryan also looked quite dashing in a suit, not least since he'd traded the jacket for his leather vest and Muir cap. He had a good ten years on Remus, and his strict German bearing lent itself equally well to acting both the stern disciplinarian and the twinkly father figure.

"Eva said something to Min and grabbed her as she went to serve you. I didn't understand the language, but it sounded rude. Min told Eva to remove her hand before she remade the tea, but she didn't threaten anyone. Of course, you know how scary she looks sometimes, sir - "

"Yes, I do," he replied with a quirk of his lips and a fond glance in her direction. "Mary, I think it's best if you and Eva leave."

"Sir, that's - " His gaze turned sharp, shutting Hermione up, and she lowered her eyes. She wanted to smooth things over, but he had little patience for a slave speaking without being spoken to in a setting like this. Especially to contradict him.

"You're just going to take his word for it? It's obvious he's lying for her. She's not as sweet and innocent as she acts."

"You're right about that.” Ryan’s lips twisted wryly. "But I've seen her do bodily harm before and she prefers the element of surprise. She doesn't warn first."

Next to her, Remus barked a laugh. _He's not wrong._

"I believe you also acted inappropriately towards her this afternoon; it was my mistake not to intervene then. Go, or I'll have you removed."

Mary shot her another glare before stalking out. Hermione's shoulders dropped a fraction in relief as he dismissed Jacob and Remus pulled her in against him.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Ryan asked.

She nodded. "I'm sorry for speaking out of turn, sir. I didn't realize you'd noticed, before."

"Unfortunately, I didn't have a translation charm up then, but I know you well enough to read your face, sweetheart. You looked as if you'd been slapped."

"What happened, little one?" Remus’s hand was warm against her shoulder.

She shook her head. "Childish insults, but they were speaking Dutch. I clued them in that I understood them - not directly - when I gave feedback on the tension in her tie. I got an earful about minding my place. It's just drama, sir, it didn't mean anything."

"It was disrespectful to you and your owner, Min, and to me."

"Would you mind if I take her into the dungeon while you all finish up?" Remus asked. He accepted Ryan's apology and took Hermione's hand, leading her back into the expansive play area, to the far corner where she'd left their things.

_You ain't never had a bitch understand you_   
_Most of them wanna use you and they ran through_   
_I just wanna be somebody that can add to_   
_Your wife, be a friend, be a teacher and a fan, too_

"Would you like to go home?" He studied her face.

At the shake of her head, he discarded his jacket and told her to take off her heels, taking a seat on the small couch situated against the wall and tugging her onto his lap. He just held her for a while, removing the pins one by one until her curls spilled through his hands. She laid her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and burying her face in his neck as he stroked her hair.

"Why didn't you say something to me?" When he broke the silence, she tensed at the question, and he added, "I'm not upset with you, sweet girl. I'm just curious."

"I intended to when she put her hand on me, after I finished serving your tea. Before that I wanted to ignore it - they were trying to play on my insecurities, that's all." Hermione brushed her lips against his jaw. "You're kind and considerate, not to mention sexy as hell, and you have skills that people line up for, Remus. I think dealing with jealous women comes with the territory."

"While I appreciate your enumeration of my better qualities - " His laugh reverberated through her. "I topped her twice, in public, and it never went further, nor did I give any indication it would. You showed much more grace and restraint than I would have, had the situation been reversed."

"Yes, well, your considerable possessive streak turns me on," she admitted, nipping at his ear and relishing the way his hand curled around her hip. Her perennial flicker of insecurity about her past lurked in the back of her thoughts. "You've never said so much as a word about my body count, though, and we both know if we leave out one-offs in the dungeon it's got to be higher than yours."

He nudged her to raise her head until she met his gaze. "That's because it doesn't affect my feelings for you, nor the worth you hold in my eyes." Pressing a soft kiss to her mouth, he added with a rueful grin, "Have to be honest, the restraint of said possessive streak is made easier by the fact that I'll never run into any of your Muggle ex-flings. And I respect Ces and Ryan's roles in your life."

"I know. But I'd understand if you sometimes wanted to top other women - "

"Hush, woman." His stern tone cut her words short with a quickness. "I drag you to the dungeon over your objections because I like coming here and you're the only person I intend to top, dominate, humiliate, tie, kiss, fuck, whip, torment, or do any other kinky, fucked up shit to. Ever again. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." She didn't bother trying to hide her pleased blush, nor the cant of her hips as his list of verbs brought up some lovely mental images. A scene with someone else might be nothing but a scene, but she still preferred having him all to herself.

She grazed her fingertips along his cheek and rested her forehead against his. "I love you."

"And I love you, Hermione." He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Wolves mate for life, you know? I may own you, but I belong to you as much as you belong to me." She swallowed against the wave of emotion crashing through her chest as she smiled at him.

"And I know in the past you've been held to the expectation of effortless service and not making an issue out of small things, but that's not the case now. You'll tell me if anyone speaks to you that way again. I don't care how petty or childish you think it is."

"I promise."

"That's my girl." He took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to her forehead. "You've been so good for me. I'm proud of you." The praise washed over her, soothing and warm, as her eyes fluttered closed. "Would you like to suffer for me a bit more tonight?"

She shivered and caught her lower lip between her teeth. "Yes, please."

"Good." He brushed her hair aside to work at the lace halter. "Help me take this off. I want to see you."

As the lace fell away, baring her breasts to him, she loosed the stays at her back. She arched to his hands when he thumbed her nipples, grinding her hips against his lap. When she was free of the garment, he set it across the arm of the couch, drawing her into a deep kiss. He pulled back and the heat in his gaze elicited a clenching in her core and a fresh wave of wetness.

The Wolfsbane rendered him docile for the few days around the full, and with the way he cosseted her the rest of the time, one might think she could forget she was in love with an apex predator. Not when he looked at her like that, though.

_I just wanna listen_   
_When you leave, I say 'Damn, I fucking miss him'_   
_I just wanna be your vixen_   
_Give you something real wet to put your lips in_

"I think we need to have a talk first. On your knees, hands behind your back." He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled his sleeves up to the elbow, baring his muscular arms. The sight always did something viscerally pleasurable to her, and tonight was no exception.

She slid from his lap to kneel in front of him, the cushioning charm he murmured providing a bit of protection between her stocking-clad knees and the carpet. He ran his hand through her curls, stroking her cheek and neck, still watching her with that intense look in his eyes.

"You remember my rules about pain and humiliation, yes?"

A slight flicker of anxiety shot through the knot of anticipation in her stomach. He only asked that question when he planned to push her - as a reminder that he expected her to tell him if it became too much, even if she could bear it well enough not to need to give her safe word.

She nodded, very aware that other people had trickled into the room, though they hadn't yet drawn a crowd to their little corner. She could hear low music, and the sound of conversation and play in the background.

"Good. Were you enjoying yourself earlier, sitting at my side at dinner?"

"Yes, sir." She rubbed her cheek against his thigh with a faint blush. "I - I liked being on my knees, and serving you. And when you fed me. It felt - I don't know how to describe it."

Touch came more easily to her than words; she loved the way he could talk her to the ledge of orgasm, loved the sound of his voice and the filthy things that spilled forth from his creative mind, but she was self-conscious that she tended to dissolve into a stammering mess in return, communicating more in her body’s responses to him. He never minded.

"I could tell. I enjoyed it too. We'll have to do that more often." He chuckled, still caressing her bare skin. "I don't think your mind was on the food, though." As she shook her head and nuzzled further in his lap, he ran his fingertips along her flushed cheek. "No, you only turn that particular shade of pink and suckle my fingers so eagerly when you're thinking about something else. And you were quite well-behaved, but I know that squirm, kitten."

Half-hard through his trousers, she felt him against her as she breathed a quiet moan. He smelled like heaven, like everything good she associated with him - cedar, musk, a hint of smoke, the sweet scent of the oil he used. And of her, from where she'd dampened his lap moments before. As his thumb brushed her lips, she sucked it into her mouth, laving him with her tongue, her eyes fluttering closed.

"There, that's what you needed, isn't it?" he murmured, running her hair through his other hand like silk. "I know how much you crave my cock, but you know the rules here. I can't fill any of your needy holes until we get home. That's okay, though, we're still going to have fun, I promise."

His definition of fun usually involved reducing her to incoherent praying and cursing, and also a puddle of bodily fluids. And he'd gotten a good head start already, which meant it would be a long evening. The promise in his words made her whimper as she curled her tongue around him. She ached to touch him, but kept her hands at the small of her back, pressing her body flush against his leg instead.

"Tell me, my little kitten in heat, did you like being on display for me? Knowing you were being watched in your pretty lingerie?"

She knew he was studying her, but she couldn't bring herself to look up as her throat constricted and she figured out where the conversation was headed. She hid her face against his thigh.

For years, until he'd come back into her life, she'd been hard as diamond. When you felt nothing, it meant no worry about shyness or shame or fear or anticipation. It also meant no ability to receive affection and love. He gave her all of that and more, so intensely at times that it was as if he wanted to make up for a decade.

"Oh, my sweet girl." He took his thumb from her mouth and maneuvered her to meet his eyes. "It's okay, you can tell me. I know you had a slick in your panties earlier. Are you soaking yourself right now, knowing everyone can see what a slut you are?"

She shut her eyes tight, breathing a choked whimper as she nodded.

"I thought you might like that." Sometimes it terrified her how well he knew her desires, even the ones she didn’t have the courage to name, the ones she didn't know the words for. "We can't have you making a mess on Master Ryan's nice carpet, though. Keep those thighs spread."

She opened her eyes, keeping them downcast as she felt his leg shift against her, and her embarrassment gave way to the rush of shame as he spoke a quiet charm and slid his boot between her legs. He nudged her wide apart until she pressed obscenely against the leather upper.

She didn't realize how tense she was until he stroked her cheek and whispered, "Shh. It's okay, little one, just breathe. I know you're aching, aren't you?"

At her slight nod, he ran a tender hand through her hair, tapping his foot a bit. The friction elicited a quiet moan and an instinctive cant of her hips as she struggled to control herself.

"There you go, see? Your body knows what you need, you just let your thoughts get in the way. But I've got you, you're safe. All you have to do is feel."

Hot tears spilled down her cheeks as she did her best to relax into him, nuzzling into his lap and seeking his closeness while she ground herself on the leather, unable to suppress her pleading moans. He kept up his soothing touch, his hands running over her shoulders and upper back. As she quivered, he caressed her cheek.

"Give me your hands. You have permission to touch me now. Look at me and ask me for what you need."

Touching him was the easy part - she craved it, she always did. She tangled the fingers of one hand with his, her other hand clutching at the outside of his thigh. Meeting his eyes and opening her mouth was the hard part.

"P - please, sir, may I come?" Her voice shook, and she fought the urge to close her eyes against her overwhelming emotions.

He held her gaze, trailing his fingertips over the expanse of her throat. "Do you want to ride my boot until you come for me, little kitten? Is that why you're so eager?"

"Yes, sir, please - please let your slave come on your boot." She had to force the words out through her tears, grateful that once he'd granted permission he guided her to lay her head in his lap again and surrounded her with his arms. She clung to his hand, dragging her nails down his thigh as she rocked her hips against the leather until she tensed with a little cry, deep shudders rippling through her.

"There you go, sweet girl. I knew you could do it." It took a minute or two for the aftershocks to work their way through her body, and she sucked in a breath as he let go of her hand to run his fingers through her hair again. "Now, I think you ought to get down there and clean me up. Ass in the air."

 _Jesus fucking Christ._ He was going to kill her. It was a toss-up as to whether she'd expire from shame or arousal, though, since they went hand in hand with him.

As she struggled with herself, he showed more patience than usual, but his warning tug of her hair drew her from her thoughts and from his lap.

She avoided his gaze when she leaned down, and he tugged her in so she knelt sideways along the couch, giving him better access to her most intimate parts. She arched her back, spreading her legs with her ass up the way he liked, and hesitated only a moment longer before pressing her mouth to the leather.

It was shiny and slick with her, and she realized that his earlier charm must have been a cleansing one. She tasted only herself, leather, and a faint hint of polish. The moan that rose from her throat was as much from the erotic fascination with tasting herself on him as from the feeling of his hand along her inner thigh, and the fact that she could feel her heat building again from cleaning his boot with her tongue provoked a fresh wave of shameful tears.

"Goodness, little one. I don't think I've ever seen you make such a mess, not even when you're squirting on my fingers." He collected some of the juices that escaped the thin silk of her panties to run down her thighs. That was hyperbole; she soaked his sheets right through on a regular basis and they both knew it, but it had the intended effect as she circled her hips, seeking more of his touch.

"I should have guessed you'd like a little public humiliation, you always come just as hard as you blush." She shivered as he stroked along the gusset and toyed with the ribbons that held the scrap of fabric together. "These aren't doing you much good now, but we'd better leave them on so everyone can see what a dirty girl you are, hm?"

"Y - yes, sir," she whispered, relieved when he tugged her up from the floor and gave her his fingers. She sucked those clean, too, little whimpers rising from her throat.

_I wanna be the only one that can check you_   
_And still respect you_   
_'Cause it's you I would change for_   
_You always make sure_   
_I just wanna be your favorite_

He kissed her temple and brushed the tears from her cheeks. When he met her eyes, mischief gleamed in his. "Now, then, since we've had our little talk, I think it's time to get on with the suffering portion of the evening. What do you think?"

"You're the worst, you know that?" She gave a soft laugh and cuddled close as he drew her into his arms.

"Oh, yes, I'm a mean bastard." His breath grazed her ear, and she could hear his fond amusement. "But you're a good girl, aren't you? The best girl." She hugged him tighter as the pride and the love in his voice washed over her. "You just crawl to the frame and relax, I'll be there soon."

She pressed a kiss to his cheek before she let him go, making her way to the soft blanket he'd laid out beneath the tall suspension frame nearby. As she stretched a bit and then curled up on her side, she realized with a start that a couple of people had been watching them already, and a few more voyeurs gathered as Remus began pulling hanks of rope from his bag.

Perving in the dungeon was everyone's favorite pastime, second only to playing. It wasn't a surprise, and with Ryan's strict etiquette, no one would disrupt them. Still, she closed her eyes, relieved for the distraction when he dropped behind her and ran his fingertips along her side, pulling her back towards him to lay half-in his lap.

"Hi," she murmured as she looked up at him. He'd removed his boots and his tie, and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt.

"Hi, sweet girl." His voice held tenderness as he trailed his hand over her torso, studying her with that same sweet intensity for awhile until he lifted her to sit with her back against his chest.

She didn't need to keep her eyes open. She knew this part like she knew every footnote in _Hogwarts: A History_ , like she knew just how much honey to put in his tea: the way he would take her wrists and draw them to meet at her back, how he wound the rope above and below her breasts. As he let her fall forward, she could picture his calloused hands making the knots to secure his favorite variation on the box tie.

He pulled her back to him, her head lolling on his shoulder as he brushed his lips to her temple. He held her like that for a while, wrapped in his arms, and she took the loss of him with a soft whimper when he stood.

Then, the familiar pressure of being hoisted to her feet, the caress of his knuckles against her cheek. Her eyes were closed, but he tipped her chin up so he could kiss her. She rested her head against his chest while he drew the rope around her waist and over her hips, until he had to lean down to tie off the harness, a tight series of diamonds and knots.

Another soft whimper escaped her as he laid his palm against her throat, tugging at the interlocking rope and grazing her inner thighs with his other hand until she moaned.

He tied her legs, but only slender lengths encircled each this time, just above her knees. He hoisted first one and then the other high behind her, her knees bent and spread apart, and she floated face-down.

A tender hand swept over her back, and when he knelt in front of her, he tugged her head up by her hair until her forehead rested against his.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I know."

She might have been nearly naked and spread, and they might have had an audience, and he might have chosen for once not to blindfold her, but it was still a private conversation between her body and his hands. A shared language, a dance where he broke her apart and held each piece to the light. He always put her back together again.

He bound her ankles together and wound the rope around the upline from her chest harness, pulling until what had been a strenuous position became a painful one, the bow of her back more pronounced. On the second pass, he encircled her throat with it, careful to avoid snagging the intertwining rose gold strands of her collar, forcing her head up as he drew it taut and tucked it into the upline.

A deep shudder rippled through her when she met his eyes this time, the pressure eliciting a violent shiver of arousal. It wasn't tight enough to fully cut off her air, only more than he usually gave. He held her gaze for a minute or two, brushing her hair back from her face as she whimpered, until he unwound the rope from her neck and she breathed a little gasp.

"Thank you, sir," she murmured as he pulled her close to his side while he unbound her ankles as well. She loved the vulnerability of breath play, but he was so careful about it that he rarely tied her neck.

He paused a moment, and she could hear his smile as he held her. "You're welcome, little kitten."

When he moved further away, she felt the sensation of tugging, and then her hips were hoisted level with her knees and he let her chest down slowly until she hung inverted - similar to earlier in the day, but with the hip harness taking most of her weight this time. Her hair spilled down onto his chest as he lay beneath her, kissing her until she moaned into his mouth and then sending her into a slow spin.

He feathered his fingertips along her throat and cheek, gathering her hair in his hand, winding a length around it and drawing the working end through the bight before he stood. There was the familiar click of a carabiner further down the frame and the rustle of rope through it, and he tugged her taut by the hair for several inches as she gasped.

When he released her hair, he untied her thighs and worked at the knots tethering her hip harness to the frame, then crouched next to her, cradling her head as he lowered her to the ground with infinite care and tenderness.

Needy whimpers escaped her as he knelt between her thighs and untied the harness, grazing her molten core with his fingers. He surprised her by knotting a slender length of rope around her waist once more, and she opened her eyes just in time to see him throw the length over the frame and pull, lifting her a few inches until her back arched. She breathed a pained moan as his foot pressed down on her lower belly, her head falling back.

"Who do you belong to, Hermione?"

"You, master."

Neither of them had a foot fetish, but they shared her 'being reminded that her place was at his feet' fetish, one she possessed in spades.

"That's right," he murmured, lowering her to the ground and untying the rope from her waist, then lifting her to lay against his chest, taking his time working her free of the box tie.

_It's you I would change for_   
_You always make sure_   
_I just wanna be your favorite_   
_You should already know_   
_I just wanna be your favorite_   
_Won't you let me be your favorite?_

She knew this part like she knew the silvery arrangement of the scars on his torso. He'd anchor her with his touch and let her melt into him when she came unbound.

He held her and she lost track of time for awhile, her eyes fluttering closed. Eventually, his hand drifted down and back up her arm, tracing the petals of the crocuses that formed a sleeve there, then following their continuation along her collarbone before he wrapped it around her throat.

"Tell me something, Min," he whispered into her hair, his thumb stroking the hollow of her throat.

"Sir?" The helpless headspace of semenawa always left her pliant in his arms, and the honorific came out a faint sigh.

"How long have you belonged to me now?"

 _A thousand lifetimes._ She mused as his other hand found hers, tangling their fingers together. She'd worn his permanent collar and his engagement ring since March, and before that he'd collared her at Christmas, but...

* * *

_She didn't spot the scars on his cheek until he walked through the door._

Fuck, fuck, fuck. _Swallowing the the water she'd nearly choked on, she stood as the waitress showed him to her table. She shook his hand - after surreptitiously wiping hers on her dress first - and accepted his kiss on her cheek._

_"Kate," she said, trying to hit the sweet spot with Occlumency where she wouldn't be so blank as to be suspicious while she screamed internally._

_"Please, call me Remus," he responded in French with a genuine smile. "Just feels a little weird otherwise."_

_..._

_"Oh. You 'know him' know him. Did he recognize you?"_

_"No, you know how I am about my glamors, but even if I could make it through an entire dinner date without giving myself away - " She cut off, her breath catching in her throat._

_"You don't want to."_

_"Yeah. But I can't. I either Obliviate him and walk away or he finds out, and you know the latter isn't an option in this line of work."_

_"I don't work for those bastards anymore, Katie, it's not like I'm going to tell management on you," Cesare said, his soothing baritone coming through the phone. "Calm down, take a breath, stop Occluding so hard you make yourself sick."_

_He knew her too well - and also he'd been the one to teach her advanced Occlumency in the first place. She took a few deep breaths. "What do I do?"_

_"What do you want to do? What does your heart say?"_

_..._

_"Do you always get this ahead of yourself?" Remus teased, but it was gentle._

_She rolled her eyes. "You know the answer to that."_

_He gave her a knowing smile. "No expectations. And no digging. Cross my heart."_

_"My complicated life aside, this would change things between us, even if it's just one time. Are you sure that's what you want?" She searched his eyes._

_"Yes." He said it without any hesitation. "Yes."_

_..._

_Other than Cesare and Ryan, she'd never done this with anyone she knew or would ever see again. She was used to giving up control in a specific container - one where she could remain aloof, disconnected, still in control in the big picture. One where no one ever saw what she really looked like, who she really was._

_Remus seemed content with her boundaries, and she knew she could trust him - but if she was going to let him in, could she trust herself to maintain enough distance?_

_And what if it didn't go well? Would he be able to look at her after this, if she returned to her old life?_

_"You're thinking loudly, sweet girl," he said without looking up from the book._

_A sheepish smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She came to him and dropped to her knees in front of the couch, sitting back on her heels and clasping her hands behind her back. She was close enough to feel the heat of his body, but she didn't touch him, though she wanted to. His contract had focused mainly on their limits and his preferences, and explained little in the way of his rules._

_He set the book down. Even with her eyes downcast, she could feel him studying her. "Look at me," he murmured, dragging his calloused fingers across her cheek. She did, and the desire and care - the longing - in his eyes made her shiver. "You're safe with me. Do you know that?"_

_..._

_He trailed his fingertips up her side and over her chest as he knelt between her thighs. His thumb grazed the hollow of her throat and when she tilted her head slightly to allow him more access, he encircled her throat with his hand, not squeezing, simply letting her feel the weight of his touch._

_"Who do you belong to, Hermione?"_

_She resisted the urge to close her eyes against the emotions he brought up - with the primal possessiveness inherent in the gesture, with the heat of his gaze, and with his words._

_She was out of her depth; this wasn't like any other weekend. It would be the height of self-deception to pretend otherwise._

_"You, sir."_

_"That's right," he whispered, smoothing her hair back from her face. "And you're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"_

* * *

"Since the first moment you asked me. That first time you put your hand around my neck and - " Her voice broke on the words, and she shifted to the side, cuddling close and rubbing her cheek to his chest as he held her. "I remember thinking I'd just made the biggest mistake by imagining I could keep any sense of detachment."

She lifted her head to meet his gaze as her tears spilled over, for a different reason this time. "I've belonged to you for exactly a year, Remus Lupin. The happiest year of my life."

"Do you know what I thought?" His smile reached his eyes and he cupped her cheek, his lips lingering in a kiss against her forehead. She shook her head.

"When you were brave enough not to walk away, when you told me who you were, I thought it was the closest thing to a miracle I could imagine." He rested his forehead against hers. "And when you knelt for me the first time, I realized I'd been waiting for you - waiting for that moment, all this time, without any idea."

"Yeah," she whispered with a trembling laugh. "Yeah, me, too."

"My precious girl." He brushed the tears from her cheeks, kissing her softly. "I love you so."

"And I you."

He ran a gentle hand through her curls. "Do you feel up to saying our goodbyes while I pack? I'd like to get you home soon, but I know you didn't get a chance to see Cesare before dinner."

She nodded, only a little shaky as he drew her to her feet and wrapped her in one of his black robes. It didn't take her long to find Cesare sitting with Ryan and Jacob, who made an adorable coffee table. She gave hugs all around.

Something in Cesare's smile told her he recalled that terrifying phone conversation a year ago, too, but he just said, "Love you, cara. Be good."

She found Remus in the foyer and tucked herself into him. He side-alonged her from the club in Brussels to the porch of their beach house in Marseille, dropping the bag inside before sliding his arm under her knees. When he carried her to the bedroom, he made quick work of both of their clothes, pressing her back onto the bed and covering her body with his as he twined their hands.

She knew this part, too, like she knew the steps to brewing Wolfsbane, but it was precious each time.

Whenever he tethered her soul to him with his rope or his lash, he'd make love to her quietly, as if he was afraid to break the sacred spell that held them. He wouldn't torment her the way he often liked to; he'd just rock into the deepest part of her until she came and came, until he couldn't hold himself back anymore.

Then she would fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, safe enough to sleep sound and dreamless until morning.


End file.
